


All the Things I've Lost on You

by Edith_Edison



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Badass Newt (Maze Runner), Brenda is Gally's (Maze Runner) stepsister, Brenda/Thomas (Maze Runner) at the beginning only, Childhood Friends, Dark Past, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Some Humor, Thomas (Maze Runner) studies psychology, Underage Drinking, a bit of a jerk too, because I don't want to spoiler, pianist!Newt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edith_Edison/pseuds/Edith_Edison
Summary: Thomas had never thought he would see Newt again.There was a time when they had meant everything to each other; now he could not get past the look into Newt's eyes when he told him he never wanted to hear from him again.He thought he would never love someone again, at least not as much as he loved Newt. And maybe it was true, maybe he had been the greatest love of his life. However it was, Thomas moved on.Sometimes, he still remembered the days when they were children and the blond boy was his best friend; he repeated the husky words that were whispered in the middle of the night, intimate confessions which belonged to them only; he hurt over the image of Newt who was not himself anymore.He could still trace the outline of his carefree smile, if he closed his eyes and gave up himself to the memories.But that was the past. Thomas was in college studying psychology and was part of an amazing group of friends, had a girlfriend perfect for him and was living the best of his youth.Until memories were not memories anymore and he was staring at Newt watching him back.





	1. Talking to Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!  
> So 'No time cannot erase you' is almost finished - I think I will post two chapters and call it the end.  
> This story has been on the back of my mind for a long time now, so I thought it was about time to give it a shot.  
> It's going to be a long ride with lots of flash-backs, drama and angst. You know I'm a sucker for angst. But I promise you a happy ending! And lots of Newtmas fluff, as well. I can't get enough of these two.  
> Anyway, this is just the first chapter, it was mostly a way to get the story started and generally introduce the characters.  
> I hope you like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was one of those days. One of those in which Thomas could not get him out of his head, memories creeping into him like snakes ready to suffocate him.
> 
> The last thing he expected to happen, though, was to meet him again.

 

 

__ _All the walls that you keep building_ __  
_All this time that I spent chasing_  
_All the ways that I keep losing you_

 

_ \- 'Talking to Myself', Linkin Park. _

 

 

 

 

 

Pavlov said _"Don't become a mere recorder of facts, but try to penetrate the mystery of their origin."_ and that was exactly what Thomas was trying to accomplish.  
  
It was not always easy not to stop in front of what you saw, to observe the manifestation of a phenomenon in order to elaborate the information you collected and understand the inner substance, the hidden meaning of it.  
  
Thomas had never been one to believe in appearances, not even when he was a little kid; he had always been too curious for his own good, almost obsessively looking past the obvious.  
  
Because there was _more than met the eye._  
  
Because situations could be analyzed from different point of views, having multiple facets which awaited to be studied, tore apart, shattered into pieces to show every possible aspect and in the end built from the foundation to the top, this time in a logical order.  
  
Because people were _Rubik's cubes._ They were made of so many thoughts and opinions; they were forged by the blacksmith that was experience, life per se. And they were the most complicated things to comprehend and solve.  
  
Thomas was generally good at understanding people. Sure, sometimes he was overly talkative and asked a lot of questions, but the point was they were proper questions. He was like a shooter with perfect aim: he possessed an insightful look which offered him a unique way of handling a particular circumstance.  
  
Nevertheless, he still had a lot to learn. That was why Thomas was a psychology major at _'Maze University',_ situated in Denver since 1874, currently into his sophomore year.  
  
So Thomas was studying Pavlov and he was liking him a lot, discovering he was so much more than 'the guy who experimented with dogs'. He resumed his studying after throwing a smile at Minho, who was sitting across him and beside Alby.  
  
Minho was his best friend. He met him the first day of his freshman year, being his roommate. They clicked instantly and became inseparable, a constant and comforting presence in the new and unknown world that was college.  
  
The guy was an economy major, alongside with Alby, their mutual friend who was a junior and happened to be a student committee member. Everyone knew Alby ans saw him as a reference point, confiding in him with their doubts and desires.  
  
Thomas was just picking up a yellow highlighter to underline an important concept, when a tornado approached their table and took a seat next to him.  
  
"I have news!" Teresa sing-songed to them, with a sly smirk plastered on her face.  


"Yeah?" Alby answered, raising his head from his book for the first time since they entered the library.  


Teresa was the final piece to the puzzle that her, Thomas and Minho were. Thomas met her on a rainy day of November, during his first year. He had been at the supermarket to buy his favorite biscuits and some ice cream for Minho - the guy was so weird; Thomas knew it was November, but that day was freezing -, when he noticed a girl with a 'Maze University' sweater. She was standing at the exit, eyeing anxiously at the rain, already drenched and shivering.   
Naturally, Thomas offered her a ride.  
  
Minho took a liking on her, because  _'she_ _i_ _s really cool for being a girl'_ and they became a trio.   
  
"Fuck yeah, Alby! Bingo for 'The Scorch'!" She said a little too excitedly, because the librarian shushed them and shot them a look that could have killed them straightaway, to which Teresa responded with an equally upset look, as if she wasn't the one disturbing the quietness if the library.  
  
"So? Spill it." Alby encouraged her, right under Thomas and Minho's indifferent eyes.  
They were so used to scenes like that they were not surprised in the slightest. In addition to being a drama and  theater major, Teresa was also the photographer of  _'The Scorch',_ as Maze University's newspaper.  Alby was her right arm, constantly ready to write a suited article about her news – she was really good at snatching information around the campus – or an impact caption to her photos. 

 

“Okay, ready?” She continued and remained silent for a few seconds, just to create some kind of suspense. Teresa wanted to be an actress, after all. “We have a new student! Sophomore,”

 

The three of them  stared at her with wide eyes. 

 

“Are you kidding?!” Alby asked, his voice full of sarcasm. 

 

“That’s barely news.” Minho retorted, before going back to his economy book. 

 

“No, guys. I’m telling you.” Teresa objected. “There are so many voices about him...and he arrived this morning. There must be something about him.” 

 

Thomas shrugged and barely kept a frown for himself. “I thought you had something interesting here, not some stupid gossip. I hate when you get so caught up in them.”

 

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms on her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Perfection.  Flash news,  I’m human and like everyone else I like gossip.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘The Scorch’ would be nothing without the _‘_ _Beetle blades’ corner’_ and _bla bla bla...”_

 

The raven-haired girl gave him the tongue, proving herself as the mature woman she was. “It’s true.” She mumbled. “It’s not like I’ve ever written anything mean.”   


Hearing that, Thomas’ features softened, along with his tone. “I know, Tess.” He was well aware of how much of a good person Teresa was. Otherwise she could not be his best friend. “So? What are you going to do about this mysterious guy?”

 

Teresa relaxed and smiled, moving a little closer to them. “ I am going to ask around, see what comes out. Take some photos, maybe.” 

 

“But have you seen him?” Alby took an interest in the conversation again, actually intrigued by the possibility of letting people talk about what they were going to publish on ‘The Scorch’. For them, the newspaper was a big deal. 

 

“Yeah.” She answered absent-mindlessly, but a faint blush betrayed herself. “It’s kinda...hard not to notice him.”

 

“Why?” He tilted his head to the side, confused about her sudden shyness, even though Thomas had a hunch and Minho too, it seemed, since he tuned in again. 

 

Teresa’s gaze was going back and forth between the three of them, sensing her best friends had already understood what was going on – also,  the quirky smile Minho was giving her was highly insinuating. 

 

She avoided their eyes when she spoke. “He’s smoking hot, okay?”

 

“Well, well, well…” Minho seized the opportunity. “...Tess got a _crush,_ huh?”

 

Thomas hid an amused smile behind the palm of his hand, while Alby shook his head, delighted by the way Teresa lost her composure, her face showing a shocked expression.

 

However, she recovered herself pretty quickly. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a crush. Let’s just say he  piqued my interest.”

 

“Sure.” Minho chuckled, barely holding back a laugh. “Go get your Romeo, Juliet.” He told her, adding a fake drama to his words. 

 

“Fuck you.” Teresa got up. “See you at lunch.” She offered them before going away. 

 

Thomas sighted. They would hear so much about this new guy. 

♯♯♯

 

Thomas loved his group of friends. 

 

He had never felt so at ease with other people, until he got to know them. Maybe it was also the fact he had never been part of a group,  so it was not like he ever had the chance . Not that he was not sociable; but he always observed them from far away – in high school, mostly -, never thinking he wanted that kind of relationships, content with  the few friends he had. 

 

_ Or, maybe, it was the fact that you were too busy with a certain someone- _

 

So lunch quickly became on of his favorite moments of the day at college. They would reunite at the same table – inside the cafeteria or outside when it was not too cold – and talked about whatever was going on their minds, joking or comforting each other when it was needed. 

 

That day, Thomas and Minho were laughing at Chuck, who was telling them how he ended up being bitten by a cat at the clinic where he worked in his spare time.  He loved animals, in fact he was a veterinary major, but sometimes even him had bad experiences with them. 

 

They became friends with Chuck a few months before. Thomas had taken him under his wing, after the boy had been targeted by Gally and his crick of bullies. There was bad blood already between Thomas and Gally, so it was not a surprise the brunet welcomed Chuck into his group of friends. And, really, the boy was so nice that it had not been a sacrifice at all.

 

“You’re a dork.” Thomas said between laughter, while Minho wiped away a tear from his almond eyes. 

 

Frypan and Alby joined them shortly after, the former patting his shoulder as a sign of greeting. 

 

“How is it going with that social psychology project?” Frypan asked him, after taking a large gulp of water. He was also studying psychology, so they tended to study together when they could. 

 

“Already finished it. Why?”

 

“Damn, man! What’s your secret?” Thomas scrunched his eyebrows, then shrugged in response. “Anyway, could you help me, please? I’m beat.”

 

“Of course, Fry. Don’t even mention it.” He bit an apple. “Just tell me wh-

 

“Got it!” They heard Teresa yell, before she stormed at their table, sucking them in her usual tornado. She stood between Thomas and Minho, with her camera secured tightly in her hands, and leaned closer to them to show the two something – a photo. 

 

A photo of someone, a stranger. From the back. 

 

“You’re a duffer. I can’t even understand who he is!” Minho piled on. “You couldn’t even take a good picture of the Greenie.”

 

“And you’re an asshole! It’s not like I can go right in front of him and take a picture. My job is all about being discreet!” Teresa barked at him upset.

 

But there was something about that picture that seemed  _oddly familiar_ to Thomas; he could not quite put a finger on it, it was like a feeling on the back of his mind that could not be grasped by him, sliding away from his fingers like small grains of sand.

 

He was brought back to reality in the moment Teresa moved the camera away from them, just to show the photo to Alby, who cringed and mumbled “we can work with that” to not make things worse. 

 

“It’s clearly blond and sexy!” Teresa imposed herself for the umpteenth time. “Of course we can work with that!”

 

Even though, when nobody  dared to contribute to that argument, she turned towards Minho again and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’ll regret calling me a duffer.” And she left, not even seeing Minho gaping at her. 

 

Thomas would have said something, if he wasn’t interrupted by Brenda, who planted a loud kiss on his mouth. “Hello, babe.” She greeted him sweetly, before sitting beside him. 

 

“Hi.” He answered back, encircling her with an arm around her waist and kissing her on her cheek. “Do you have practice later?”

 

“Yes.” She leaned more into his touch. “Do you?”

 

“Nope. Today we’re free.” Thomas shot a look at Minho, who winked at him.

 

Brenda was a cheerleader and his girlfriend and, as stereotypical as it sounded, she was not the snobbish kind of girl everyone imagined her to be. She was determined and good-hearted, cool  and brilliant; when Thomas met her, he though he did not deserve her because she literally embodied all the characteristics he liked to find in other people. 

 

“I saw Teresa running away. She was fuming.” Brenda told them with an amused smile on her lips. 

 

For whatever reason, Teresa never liked Brenda. After a few failed attempts, his girlfriend gave up, pointing out that she could not force Teresa to like her back. So they never became friends, even though Thomas suspected it was because of his best friend’s exaggerated competitiveness – Brenda was also a drama and theater major.

 

“Yeah, about that...what was all about?” Frypan chimed in. 

 

“She likes the newbie.” Minho explained them shortly.

 

“Ah!” Brenda let out in understanding. “Everyone’s talking about him.”

 

Frypan cleared his throat. “Uhm...excuse me? Do we go to the same college? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“I heard he’s doing music. Maybe that’s why you haven’t heard anything about him.” Brenda informed them patiently, softly scratching the back of Thomas’ neck with her nails. 

 

“It makes sense.” Alby commented. 

 

And it did.  The campus was very extensive, so not all departments were near the other: the Art Department was one of them, situated in a large building the West side, which provided the students with two auditorium – one of them being the main one – and some soundproofed classrooms.

 

“Anyway, I caught a glimpse of him. He seems cute.” Brenda said and giggled at the glare she received from Thomas. “Also heard he’s British.”

 

Alby let out a long and defeated breath. “Then we’re never gonna see the end of it.”

 

But, even when his friends bursted into laughter, he could not bring himself to relax and enjoy the light atmosphere. Because it was one of those days in which his memories hunted him, mercilessly. 

 

_And all signs leads to him, not to the beautiful girl beside you._

 

“Thomas.” His girlfriend called him, distracting him from his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

 

He forced himself to smile. “Yeah.” Thomas kissed her forehead and murmured the most common lie against her skin. “I’m alright.”

 

♯♯♯

 

Thomas  got to know Newt when he was seven year old. He had just moved to U.S.A. from England with his parents and his sister Sonya and he was the grumpiest kid he  ever met. 

 

“ _I hate America.”_ was one of the first thing Newt said to him. 

A statement that morphed during the years they spent together. 

 

It became a  _“I still hate America, but you are fine.”_ after a month and a  _“You’re the only thing I like about this country.”_ after a year. A year in which the blond grumpy kid proved to be so much more to Thomas, who was happy to finally have a best friend. 

 

After spending the New Year’s Eve in New York with their families when he was eleven – and the blond twelve, there was a one-year gap between the two-, Newt finally admitted that  _he liked the States too._ Yeah, it had taken him four years to confess he did not find the U.S.A. as horrible as he once thought, but Thomas knew very well how stubborn the boy could be.

 

However, Thomas still shivered at the memory of Newt whispering sweet words to him, while they were tangled in a mess of limbs and blankets, their naked bodies against each other.  _“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,”_ got past his lips and the brunet felt himself paralyzed under his affectionate gaze, because that was the most heart-felt confession Newt revealed to him. 

 

“ _You have no idea how much I love you,”_ Thomas let out in response, without even trying to restrain his emotions.  Newt had smiled his gorgeous smile and kissed him with all the passion he could muster. 

 

And they could still had been so in love, if only the story did not end in tears and broken hearts, in unanswered texts and awkward glances.  _In pieces and pain._

 

Thomas sighted and turned into his bed, pressing a pillow on his face, while hearing Minho snoring blissfully into the bed beside his. 

 

That night was going to be  _hell._

 

♯♯♯

 

The morning after the Sun shone in the middle of a beautiful blue sky and Thomas felt awful, not having slept even a blink. 

 

Minho eyed him worriedly and mentioned nonchalantly of having heard him tossing and turning in his bed around five a.m., but the brunet dismissed the matter with a vague gesture, drinking his coffee like a thirsty man. 

 

And coffee was the only thing that got him through his lectures that day, even though his mind was in a hazy state and he couldn’t quite grasp what his professors were trying to explain to the class. 

 

He got better around lunch time and almost  breathed a sight of relief when he was free to join his friends to their usual table outside. They all greeted him cheerfully.

 

“How are you? Minho told me you didn’t get enough sleep last night.” Brenda asked him and caressed his cheek, before kissing it affectionately. 

 

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I guess.” He reassured her, taking her hand between his. 

 

“Try and get some rest today, yeah?”

 

“Yes, mum.” She punched his shoulder and he chuckled amused, then stole a fry from Minho’s tray. 

 

They talked all together and, after a while, Thomas noticed Teresa was missing. He was about to ask about her, when he noticed her briskly approaching.

 

“Guys!” She began with a clap of her hands. “I would like to introduce you to...”

 

“ _Newt.”_ Thomas completed. 

 

Because Newt was standing right beside her. 

 

 


	2. House of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thomas.” The blonde scolded him, suggestively arching an eyebrow. Then her gaze softened and he held on tight for what she was about to tell him. “He’s always been your weak spot.”
> 
> And Thomas felt those words crawling underneath his skin, slip furtively between the cells of his body and finally hit him, with the force of a gunshot. So strong he had the impression of hearing the sound of it..
> 
> No, someone was just knocking on the door of Sonya’s dorm room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I'm so glad you liked the first chapter, my heart literally bursted with joy seeing the feedback it received.  
> Anyway, this is the second chapter; something begins to move here, we find out more about Newt - even though it's stil nothing compared to the full story of his past - and about the other characters. And we get to meet Sonya!  
> We have a few flash-backs about them too - I loved to write them. Their present is so difficult, but they are so small and sweet in the flashbacks, they're literally the best.  
> I hope you like it!  
> As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  
> Enjoy the chapter! xx

_ I think of you from time to time  
More than I thought I would  
You were just too kind  
And I was too young to know  
That's all that really matters  
I was a fool _

 

_ \- 'House of Memories', Panic! At The Disco. _

 

 

 

Thomas could not believe his eyes. 

 

He had not seen Newt for a year and a half at least and he vividly remember the state he was in the last time they were together. 

 

Newt had  _barely_ been himself anymore, beaten half to death and completely delirious. Thomas recalled his blank stare, the appeasement in his demeanor, worn out and tore apart, deprived of any hope or desire. Even after all that time, the brunet could not shake away the sense of desperation he felt when he realized Newt was far gone, the dejection that clenched to his bones, so tight that it hurt, at the sudden discovery: the person Thomas loved the most in the whole world had fallen apart and he had done  _nothing_ to avoid it.  
  
"Hey,  _Tommy."_ And that nickname was a violent punch in his gut, bringing back the majority of the moments they spent next to each other.  
  
Thomas was perfectly aware his friends were watching them closely, probably furrowing their eyebrows and sharing looks full of questions; however, he could not bring himself not to stare at Newt, wrapping his fingers around the things about him that had changed.  
  
He was  _different:_ Thomas was used to hair always a tad too long and plaid shirts with baggy jeans. Regardless, the boy who was standing right in front of him had carefully styled short hair and was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans with a black t-shirt and a leather jacket on - also strictly black, as if he despised colors.  
He was thin like he had always been, even if he appeared healthier than the last time they met, his complexion not grey-ish anymore, but simply pale. He also seemed to sport a more mature face, his sharp cheekbones standing out, even though it was easy to mistake him for a younger boy and not an almost 21-year-old.  
  
"How do you already know each other?" Teresa asked and Thomas could practically the wheels spinning in her head, trying to find an explanation.  
  
And in that precise instant, the brunet decided he did  _not_ want his friends to know about them, Brenda in particular. It was not like Newt was in the position of complaining, considering that he was thrown out of his life a long time ago.  
  
"We're childhood friends." Thomas hurried to answer, even before Newt could open his mouth and let something unseemly out of it, and cursed himself when his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.  
  
Newt locked eyes with his and it did not matter they had never been so distant before, they immediately made a silent agreement: Thomas Edisons and Newt Isaac were childhood friends and  _nothing more._ They knew each other enough to perfectly understand what was going on through their minds with a simple look.  
The thing bothered Thomas, his bowels gripped by an uncomfortable feeling.  
  
"Well, that's fantastic!" Brenda intervened delighted, patting his boyfriend's arm.  


Thomas smiled to her, trying to conceal the discomfort; in vain, apparently, given the way Minho and Teresa were eyeing him, with some kind of curiosity mixed with concern. Generally, they must have noticed that the unexpected reunion was not well-liked, from both sides.  
  
His girlfriend, though, did not give up on the matter. She held out her hand and offered him a friendly smile. "I'm Brenda, nice to meet you."  
  
A smile which Newt did not return and, while indifference seemed to overflow his body, Thomas noticed he was watching her hand like it personally offended him. The brunet almost sighed in relief when he decided to shook it, adding an accented: "It's a  _pleasure._ "  
  
After that, they all introduced themselves and Teresa invited him to sit to their table. He finger-crossed hoped he was going to turn down the invitation and barely restrained himself from huffing upset when the blond nodded at her.  


“So...” Alby stepped up and broke the ice. “are you liking the Maze so far?”

 

“Yeah, it’s okay, I guess.” He answered nonchalantly, tapping his fingers on the table, following an unknown rhythm that he was probably playing in his head. 

 

“Alby is a member of the student committee, so if you have any problem or request, you know who to turn to.” Teresa informed him, pragmatic as always, pointing at the dark-skinned boy with a nod. 

 

“Of course.” He confirmed with a kind smile on the stern expression of his face, a frequent contradiction about Alby’s aspect. He gave away the impression of being hard and strict and, sure, he was extremely serious when circumstances required him to be, but he was mostly a playful guy with whom was nice hanging out.

 

“Thanks.” Newt said, accompanying his words with a gesture that should mimic the military salute, earning a brief chuckle by the raven-haired girl. 

 

Thomas wondered if the blond was aware Teresa was flirting, in some way. And hoped he would not lead her on. Because the brunet would give him  _a ton_ of shit if he ever dared to make fun of her. 

 

But maybe Thomas was being too rushed.

 

_Too biased._

 

It was possible Newt intended to make some friends, after all he just arrived and did not know anyone. Well, apart from Thomas -with whom he would not establish a relationship, for  _obvious reasons -_ and...his sister. 

 

“Where’s Sonya?” Thomas chimed in, before he could even have the possibility of actually linking his brain to his mouth to avoid blabbering nonsense. He should have prevented any kind of discussion with him and yet, here he was, asking about his sister like they were speaking about how sunny the weather was that day. 

 

His cold and calculating gaze was on Thomas again, fast. “Why should I know?” 

 

“I don’t know, maybe because she’s _your sister?”_ The brunet retorted with sarcasm dripping from every letter of his words. He could not bring himself not to feel a sort of annoyance with the blond so close and was bothered by the fact that, even after he had moved on, he was still brooding so much anger inside.

 

“Well, I don’t bloody live with her, do I?” Newt replied in kind, showing he would not let Thomas prevail on the argument. 

 

“Wait.” Frypan interrupted in. “Thomas as in _Thomas’ Sonya?”_ At which he received a glare from Brenda, whose face morphed into a grimace. 

 

“Why should _my sister...”_ And he made sure to emphasize the tone of his voice pronouncing ‘my sister’. “...be Thomas’ Sonya?”

 

“’Cause he’s the only one she tolerates out of all of us.” Minho intervened, before drinking the remaining coke from the plastic bottle. 

 

Newt smiled at hearing those words, sincerely this time, and Thomas knew straightaway what he was thinking: that was just so typical of Sonya. 

 

Also a bit ironic, the brunet noted, because Sonya may like him – or barely accepting his existence, who knows with the Isaacs -, but her brother could not stand him, not anymore. At least, it was a good thing the feeling was  _ mutual.  _

 

"Doesn't she know you're here?" Brenda continued and Thomas wanted to kiss her on her lips right then and there; that was what the brunet meant to know, but he was too lofty to keep doing him questions he would later regret.  
  
"No." Newt simply uttered.  
  
"Why?" She pressed him and he seriously feared the blond was going to snap at her, judging from the murderous look planted on his face, like he was on the verge of telling them to fuck off.  
  
"I wanted to surprise her." And Thomas immediately recognized the lie. 

 

He did not quite comprehend why he did not tell Sonya he was going to move to her same campus. Newt was away for more than a year, that was true, but he was perfectly aware the girl visited him whenever she could. They lived miles away, but still stayed in contact. So he found it weird Newt had not tell her anything about it.  
  
Understanding flooded like honey on his friends, who just kept nagging him with their curiosity.  
  
Not only his physical aspect was different, but also his manners, Thomas noticed. Newt had always been grumpy, sure, but was in reality just a shy kid that hid his easy-going personality and sweetness behind a mask. There were similarities in that - the brunet could point out the mask if he concentrated enough, chasing the contours with his fingertips, but was not able to entirely made it out.  
  
Newt wore a very  well-built  _ fa _ _ ç _ _ ade, _ so fitting for him that at some points  _ merged _ with his individuality. He did not seem to be timid anymore; with the way he carried himself now - being effortlessly cool and collected -, the blond appeared confident and comfortable in his own skin. His eyes were off and calculating, in a way that could have been  _ intimidating _ for anyone, except for Thomas: the one who caught a glimpse of  _ something else _ under that devious look, a restrained feeling, chained to his very core, that could not be made out.  
  
Newt was almost unrecognizable. 

  
_ Then why did you know him so well?  
_   
That guy was an enigma. An intricate  _ maze _ that intrigued Thomas, always had during his life. But, this time, he would not get caught up in him or going out of his mind trying to solve him, ready to willingly carry the weight of his problems on his shoulders for as long as he needed him too. He offered  _ so much  _ to Newt that there was a time in which Thomas did not know what was left of him. Now they were not lovers or either friends.  
  
_ They were nothing.  _ And Thomas counted on it to stay that way. 

 

♯♯♯

 

_ 2008 _ _  
  
"I mean...you're so small! What if some bully takes a liking on you?"  
  
Thomas was freaking out.  
  
It was August and it was still hot enough to hang out at the pool, but school would begin in two weeks. It was still a lot, according to Newt, but because Thomas was insufferable, they were already talking about it.  
  
"Yeah, well...I know how to take a punch." The blonde shrugged and put some more of his sunscreen on. He was fair-skinned and got sunburned really quickly, without noticing sometimes; going around without the lotion was a danger for him, even now, after a summer of pool and sunbathing.  
  
"But you don't know how to throw one!"  
  
The thing was that Newt was going to middle school that year. They were never attending the same grade because his best friend was a year older than him; still they would constantly see each other at school, walking there or home together, meeting during breaks and having lunch sitting next to each other.  
  
So, while Thomas would go through his 5th grade, Newt was going to venture out into middle school alone. And the brunet heard terrible, terrible things about it. So, really, how could anyone blame him for looking out for his best friend in the whole world?  
  
"Ya know I'm not a violent person, Tommy." Newt told him with a smile that almost made Thomas give up on the argument, seeing how calm the blond was about it. He knew how shy and quiet Newt was; he was not eager to make friends - or, maybe, in his heart, he was, but nonetheless let the diffidence take control -, the brunet already imagined him reading a book in the corner, far from the other children, sporting a maturity that nobody else possessed at that age. The fact he was so small did not help at all: despite being almost eleven, his best friend appeared younger, with his sweet baby face and his prince-like sandy hair.  
  
Thomas did not want Newt to get hurt. And the thought he could not protect him was making him crazy.  
  
"Tommy?" Newt called him when he noticed the other was silent for far too long.  
  
The brunet just frowned and tortured his hands, nervously, licking his lips on reflex. The blond kid seemed to took pity on him, since he got up to seat beside him on the lawn chair.  
  
"Tommy." Newt began, softly. "It's only a year."  
  
"But you are alone." Thomas muttered, upset by the fact he would not have his best friend by his side also at school, the place where they met each other for the first time.  
  
"So are you."  
  
"It's not the same!" The brunet moaned about it and rolled his eyes when he heard his best friend sight in frustration.  
  
"Look, it's not like I want to go. But I have. So don't make things difficult for me, Tommy." He encircled Thomas' shoulders with his arm and the latter immediately felt the coolness of the sun cream against his skin heated by the scorching sun. "I'll miss your ugly face too, ya know."  
  
"Hey!" He flicked Newt's chest in revenge and the other chuckled, amused. He shook his head, letting himself relax into his best friend's touch and a light smile creep on his face.  
  
"Remember..." The blonde added, after they set into a comfortable silence. "...just a year."  
  
"Yeah!" Thomas agreed, determined this time. "It's just a year." And, Newt could be shy, but he was not stupid at all; he knew how to defend himself. Besides, it was not like Thomas could not stand for him too, even if he goes to a different school.  
  
It did not matter how far they were, Thomas would always be there for Newt.  
  
Newt tightened his grip on Thomas' shoulders and brought his body closer to his. "And then my knight in shining armour would be beside me to protect me from the evil bullies of middle school."  
  
Thomas flushed and pushed him away to get into the swimming pool, leaving him laughing at him like crazy on the lawn chair.  
_

♯♯♯

 

"I will kill that bloody little bastard!"  
  
After his classes for that day ended and before his track practice, Thomas decided to find Sonya and tell her about her brother. 

 

It was not going well.  
  
"Sonya, Sonya, hey. Calm down, will you?" The brunet tried to soothe her, slightly regretting not minding his own business.  
  
She sighed and took a seat on the bed of her roommate Harriet. "I just...I can't believe he's here." The girl lowered her gaze to the floor, looking like something was passing on her mind. "Seems surreal." She added then in a low voice which tugged at Thomas' heart.  
  
He knew more than anyone what they had gone through and, although he believed that time healed all wounds, he still understood the process was not easy, a road made of holes and obstacles.  
  
Thomas plopped down on her bad, sighting in frustration. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, longer than usual. "I still don't understand why he hasn't told you anything."  
  
A heavy silence settled in the space between them, suggesting to Thomas something was up, something he was not aware of. And he could have _\- definitely_ should have - walked away from that, but he was already two feet in it, so it did not make any sense to leave with his tail between his legs, not having accomplished anything.  
  
So, _naturally,_ he pushed for the truth. "Unless there's something I don't know."  
  
Sonya's face morphed into a guilty frown. "Last time I visited him, we fought."  
  
Thomas blinked at her, unimpressed. _"So?"_ It was not like it was unusual fighting with your brother.  
  
"Well..." She stopped for a few seconds to recollect her thoughts. "...you know us. He's stubborn, I'm stubborn. I thought I was right, so I stopped going there. Last time I saw him was three months ago."  
  
"You _what?"_ Thomas almost yelled; he could swear his eyes could not get any bigger, considering how wide they were.  
  
"It was pretty bad, Thomas." The blonde explained to him, a veiled sadness into her green eyes. "I'm not proud of how I handled the situation. But Newt is really good at getting into your head when he wants to."  
  
"Yeah, I know." He muttered under his breath.  
  
And he did know. The brunet would not say Newt was normally manipulative; he was just a _master_ in tricking people, making them believe in whatever he wanted. He was perfectly aware and in control of his abilities, so he used them when it was necessary. Or when he was _hurt._  
  
"He shot me out of his life, I'm not surprised." Sonya commented like it was not a big deal, but Thomas felt the pain into her voice, he could sense how she was bleeding inside. However, he supposed Newt suffered too. His sister was all he had _– all that was left to him –_ and the blond deeply cared about her. And the brunet was sure it was still like that, no matter how much he had changed or about what they fought.  
  
He was about to say something to comfort her, when she preceded him. "Have you two talked?"  
  
He gasped for breath for a couple of times, like a fish out of water, before he composed himself enough to give a proper answer to the question. "Briefly."  
  
"No, I mean...have you _talked talked?"_ Sonya insisted, encouraging him with a small smile.  
  
"Why should we talk?” Thomas shrugged dismissively, a forced smile on the face which hid more bitterness than he would have liked to admit. He hated himself for somehow still worrying about him. 

 

“Thomas.” The blonde scolded him, suggestively arching an eyebrow. Then her gaze softened and he held on tight for what she was about to tell him. “He’s always been your _weak spot.”_

 

And Thomas felt those words crawling underneath his skin, slip furtively between the cells of his body and finally hit him, with the force of a gunshot. So strong he had the impression of  _ hearing _ the sound of it..

 

No, someone was just knocking on the door of Sonya’s dorm room. 

 

“It must be Harriet.” She murmured while getting up and open it. 

 

Turned out it was not Harriet.

 

_ Newt _ took a peek at Thomas inside her sister’s room and smirked not surprised at all, as if he expected him to be there. “Well, that was quick.” He commented before turning to Sonya. “Hi, Son.” And his features softened when his eyes rested on her, Thomas observed relieved. 

 

“Hey, asshole.” She replied and, despite the insult, she was smiling at him like he hung the moon right there, in front of her eyes. Then she stepped aside to let him in and close the door behind them. 

 

“Thomas.” Newt greeted him with a nod. 

 

Thomas did not even bother to seem pleased by his presence. “Hey.” He got up as well. “I have to go.”

 

Sonya frowned at him. “But-”

 

“I have practice.” The brunet cut short, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair. “See you soon.” And he was already opening the door and stepping outside the room. He could not wait to be out of there; the place was suddenly suffocating. 

 

“Wait!” Sonya tried again, but he ignored her, not keen on staying and be involved in a very long argument in which she would try to get them to talk about their past. She apparently turned to Newt, because she shouted: “Don’t you think you should talk?”

 

The last thing he heard before slamming that damn door was the blond’s cold-hearted voice affirm: “I have nothing to say to him.”

 

♯♯♯

 

_ 2012 _

 

_ November 23, 2012 – 01:03 a.m.  
_ _**From:** _ _ Thomas  _ _**  
To:** _ _ Shuckface  _

 

_ Happy bday! Only a year til you’re 16 :) _

 

_ November 23, 2012- 09:38 p.m.  _

_**From:** _ _ Shuckface _

_**To:** _ _ Thomas _

 

_ Thanks.  _

 

 

_ He was blankly staring at that text from the moment he received it. Newt literally wrote only a word and yet so many things were pissing Thomas off.  _

 

_ Firstly, he replied after almost an entire day. He got it; they had not talked for five months now, so they were not on the best of terms. But the fact he replied after twenty hours and thirty-five minutes - he did not count them! - to demonstrate he was not thinking about him, as if Thomas meant nothing to him, lighted a flame inside the brunet which risked to start a fire.  
  
Secondly, one word. He freaking wrote one word to him. Not even a full sentence. He just decided that one word composed of six letters was enough - again, he did not count!  
Thomas's text itself was not something he was proud of - he had felt _ _ _ _ so weird writing it. He always sent him whatever he felt like it; those were the perks of being best friends, after all. He could just bother him with ten messages about a movie he was watching, not caring if he was answering or not - he was sure he would, at some point - or confide him what he was worried about - usually, scenes like that ended in a very long phone call - or ask him about the most random facts.  
Instead, he reflected on what would be the right combination of words to wish him happy birthday.  
Seriously, that was ridiculous. Still, it took him an hour - his wishes were supposed to be received at midnight sharp, like they always had since he met Newt.  
And,while Thomas literally fought a battle inside his mind to write that single text to him, the blond did not give a fuck and responded with a squalid 'thanks'.  
  
Thirdly, that shucking full stop at the end of the word was killing him. He knew Newt became practically monosyllabic when mad, but the full stop at the end of the period...was a whole other story.  
  
Fourthly, he wrote 'thanks' entirely. No abbreviation. Newt was not one for emoticons, so it did not surprise him he had not added any, but he used abbreviations - he was a human being too, after all. So the fact he actually wrote 'thanks' without shortening it made Thomas think that:  
a) he was still angry with him;  
b) he wanted to be brief, but in that way the text would have been way too short.  
Thomas was keen on the former.  
  
Fifthly, Thomas threw him a bone. Now it was  _ _ Newt’s _ _ turn.  
  
And yet it was the 24th of November and the brunet still had not heard from him. Not even a word this time.  
Radio silence.  
  
Thomas huffed annoyed and turned on his bed. He had gotten fed up with the situation a long time before, but he had not had the guts to make it right or, in other words, to grow some balls and talk to him.  
  
He knew Newt was angry - he was not sure of the reason, but he could imagine it.  
  
The fact was - in June of that same year, Thomas thought it was a good idea to kiss Newt, his best friend, his brother, straight on the lips. Just to panic after two seconds and storm away.  
  
Newt tried to reach for him, to get him to talk to him, but the brunet pushed him away in every possible way. At the end, it was the blond who got angry and they mutually and silently decided to ignore each other for a few months.  
  
Months during which Thomas always thought Newt was giving him space, time to figure out his inner turmoils. He was not push-y, but never once he was not beside him when he needed him.  
But he did not call to invite him over for his birthday - and they always spent their birthdays together - and his text was anything but affectionate.  
  
Was it possible that Newt no longer wanted to be his friend? That he did not care about him anymore? That he had been so hurt over Thomas' behavior that he decided to leave him past his back and move on for good?  
  
'I lost Newt', Thomas muttered to himself.  
  
And that thought pronounced aloud woke him up from his slumber, shaking him to the core. He sat up with a start and got out of his room from the window before he could regret his decision.  
  
He was going to get Newt back.  
  
♯♯♯  
  
"Are you bloody mad?!" Newt shouted whispering at him.  
  
They were standing in the middle of the blond's room and in that moment Thomas was reevaluating all his life choices. They could not be that good if they led him to a situation like that, with his best friend furious at him.  
  
"I need to talk to you."  
  
The blond rolled his eyes. "It's half past midnight, Thomas."  
  
Not 'Tommy'. That was so not a progress.  
  
"It couldn't wait." He said with determination flooding into his veins like blood.  
  
"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "So it couldn't wait like you waited the last five months, right?"  
  
And, okay, he deserved that. Still, that only confirmed to Thomas that the other was bitter about their not-talking period. And if he was bitter, then maybe he had not lost him - not completely.  
  
"Look..." The brunet began taking a step forward, at which Newt took one back. The gesture hurt him more than anything the blond had said to him. "I'm sorry. For everything. For kissing you and not wanting to talk to you after."  
  
Newt folded his arms against his chest and lowered his gaze for a few seconds, before locking eyes with him. "Why'd you do that?"  
  
"I was embarrassed and I didn't know how to face you. I felt so stupid. I don't know what got into me." Thomas felt so lame he wanted to cry.  
  
"So you thought that shutting me out was the solution?" Newt asked and his tone was still a bit irked, like he was not taking any of his apologies.  
  
He nodded slowly and Newt sighted in annoyance. At that rate, they would never get back being friends.  
  
"I'm bad at this." Thomas bursted, unleashing his emotions. "I just want my best friend back." He noticed something shifting on the other's gaze, so he did not give up. "I understand if you don't care about me anymore. But I just had to try to make up with you."  
  
Those words seemed to soothe Newt, who immediately appeared more calm and relaxed; his look softened, revealing his sweet affectionate side and he got closer to Thomas. "I never stopped caring about you, Tommy."  
  
Thomas could not refrain himself anymore: he wrapped his arms around the older boy and held onto him tight. He breathed relieved when he felt Newt's hands gripping at his sweater on the back and his head settling in the crook of his neck. He shivered at the feeling of his hot breath clashing against his bare skin.  
  
"I've missed you so much." And it was like a rock was being lifted from his heart. He felt light, at peace, finally complete.  
  
"I've missed you too."  
  
It almost did not matter that Thomas had a gigantic crush on him.  
  
Almost.  
  
_ ♯♯♯ _  
  
_ Thomas stayed with Brenda that night.  
  
Her roommate Rachel was coming back home for the weekend, so his girlfriend thought it was right to seize the opportunity to have the room all to themselves.  
  
They ordered some food from a place near campus and chose a  TV series on Netflix. They were both tired - Thomas being stressed all day and worn out from the practice and Brenda exhausted because of practice as well, both with the cheerleaders' squad and for some audition for which she was getting ready.  
  
So they ended up cuddling on the small couch in front of the  TV , Thomas behind her with an arm lazily draped across her waist.  
  
In the meanwhile, Brenda was caressing his forearm, her fingertips light like feather on his skin.  
  
He was starting to get groggy, his eyelids a heavy weight on top of his eyes, when she spoke. "You don't like that guy."  
  
"Who?" He asked, even though he knew _ exactly _ who she referring to.  
  
Hearing his hoarse voice and sensing her boyfriend was about to fall asleep, Brenda gently got free from his embrace and got up to turn off the  TV.   
  
"Newt." She continued, rapidly cleaning the table from the trash as well.  
  
_ "Oh." _   
  
She chuckled and made fun of him. "So eloquent..."  
  
The brunet got up too when he felt a little more awake and approached to her.  
  
"Let's say we didn't leave things on very good terms." He poorly explained, wondering why everyone was so interested in Newt.  
  
It was like he put a  _ spell _ on people.  
  
"Why?" Brenda pressed, not taking the hint nor letting the subject drop.  
  
"Well..." Thomas began and he hoped the tone of his voice was suggestive enough this time. "...I  _ really _ don't want to talk about him right now."  
  
He kissed her neck and moved his hands on her hips under her shirt, caressing the soft skin with his thumbs. She giggled and wrapped her harms around his neck, standing on her toes to kiss him on his lips, instead.  
  
They fell into her bed in a mess of limbs.  



	3. Lucid Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Thomas fucking up. Big time.
> 
> Oh and...Newtmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
> I hope my writer's block finally ended. Sorry for the late.  
> Anyway, as always, I wanted to thank you for reading this story and leaving it kudos and comments.  
> You're seriously amazing.  
> I hope you like this chapter too, it was not easy to write it, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.  
> Let me know what you think about it.  
> I also wanted to tell you two things, but it would be better for you to read this after reading the chapter:  
> 1\. Newt's smoking. I have to admit it may seem dumb, but I promise you will understand everything - or part of it, I still have to decide - in the next chapter. Probably with a flash-back, I don't know.  
> 2\. The timeline. They sort of live in the future - they are a few months ahead of us. Newt was born in 1997, while Thomas was born a year later, because he's younger than him. I wanted to specify this because I always point out the year when I write the flash-backs and also the date when the character text, so I thought it may help to clear out any doubt.  
> Also, this is a pretty long chapter. I hope it doesn't bother you. I was going to cut it into two halfs, but I didn't know where, so I left it like that lol  
> Enjoy the chapter! xx

 

 

_I still see your shadows in my room_  
_Can't take back the love that I gave you_  
_It's to the point where I love and I hate you_

_\- “Lucid Dreams”, Juice WRLD._

 

 

 

_November 9, 2018 – 07:38 a.m._

_**From:** Sonya _

_**To:** Thomas _

 

_We made up. Talk to him and make up with him you too xx_

 

_November 9, 2018 – 08:01 a.m._

_**From:** Thomas_

_**To:** Sonya_

 

_I’m happy for u. But I won’t talk to him._

 

_November 9, 2018 – 08:03 a.m._

_**From:** Sonya _

_**T** **o:** Thomas_

 

_Talk to him. ASAP!!_

 

“Hey, babe.” Brenda got out of the bathroom and kissed him on his lips. She smelled of something sweet and floral and had a big smile on her face. Thomas always wondered how could she be so chirpy so early in the morning – eight a.m. was early for Thomas, okay? -, before coffee too! It was unbelievable. 

 

“Hey.” He greeted her, still sleepy and kissed her again. 

 

She chuckled against his lips and then moved away from him, putting her hands on his chest. “I have to go.” At which Thomas frowned. “I have a lesson on the other side of the campus and I have to meet Harriet before. But suit yourself. My room is your room.”

 

He laughed and she flirty winked at him.“Alright.” Thomas got closer to her to steal one last kiss from his girlfriend. 

 

Brenda just pecked him and got her purse, then stuck her tongue at him and left her room for good. 

 

_November 9, 2018 – 08:15 a.m._

_**From:** Sonya_

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_C’mon._

 

Thomas sighted and blocked his phone, before deciding on getting dressed and coming back to his room. 

 

_November 9, 2018 – 08:22 a.m._

_**From:** Sonya_

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_Please?_

 

_November 9, 2018 – 08:50 a.m._

_**From:** Sonya_

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_FINE. Ignore me._

 

_November 9, 2018 – 11:07 a.m._

_**From:** Sonya _

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_U r a tosser._

 

♯♯♯

 

Thomas was sitting in front of Minho and Teresa, waiting for Frypan and Alby to get lunch, when Sonya approached them or, specifically, him.  
  
"Why aren't you answering my texts?"  
  
Hearing those words, his two best friends looked up from their books to give Thomas both a confused stare.  
The brunet pretended he did not notice them and shifted his attention fully on the blonde girl, who stood beside him, stubbornly demanding answers with her hands on her hips.  
  
"I think I made my intentions very clear."  
  
She arched an eyebrows and took the seat next to him. She seemed to get Minho and Teresa were there too only then and waved at them dismissively.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt you." Sonya apologized, showing an uncharacteristic politeness towards the two. It was not she could not stand them: she generally avoided Thomas' group of friends - except on rare occasions - and mostly acted in a dodgy way. "I wouldn't be here if our Tommy wasn't avoiding me."  
  
And the brunet just knew she used the nickname on purpose, to tease him and let memories resurface.  
  
"Don't worry." Minho brushed away as if it meant nothing - shattering all hopes Thomas had for a rude remark that would have brought that conversation to an end - and eyed his best friend worriedly.  
  
Thomas cleared his throat. "Look." He began, slightly turning towards her body. "I'm sorry I ignored you, okay? But none of _this_ is your business."  
  
Sonya blinked at him and her green eyes never appeared to be so big to him. He wondered if he had come out too harsh and immediately felt guilt creeping inside of him; he loved Sonya, after all. There was a time in which she used to be only Newt’s big sister, but since he got in college – maybe, even before then -, Thomas considered her a good friend. He worried and cared about her and the feeling was mutual. That he liked it or not, Sonya was the only one Thomas could talk to about Newt: he did not need to explain her the whole situation, because she knew exactly what the two of them went through. And more than once the blonde confided him what was messing with her head, confused thoughts she did not think anyone could comprehend. Well, until Thomas. 

 

They bonded over Newt. 

 

So it was obvious Sonya was trying to convince him to make things right with him.  


The brunet decided to ease the atmosphere before it was too late. “Besides, why am I the _only one_ you’re pestering?”

 

The girl snorted and stretched her legs under the table. Minho and Teresa were absorbed in whatever it was written in those books of theirs, but Thomas imagined they were listening to their talk; there was no way they were actually remaining out of it, especially the blue-eyed girl, who had the tendency to stick her nose in businesses that did not concern her. Also, they were literally sitting in front of them, so it was not like they could easily ignore them. Thomas did not blame them, really, and gave them kudos for the apparent disregard. 

 

“I just made up with him. Give me a break, man.” 

 

He shrugged. “So are you planning on torturing him too?”

 

“Of course!” Sonya squealed. “He’s going to block me on each and every social network and put me on his black list, that for sure!”

 

Thomas let out chuckle, grateful she hinted his attempt to joke around. “He used to have you blocked _all the time.”_ And, well, maybe he relaxed a bit too much, because his mouth moved on his own accord again. He did not want to remember the old good times; quite the opposite, actually. So why could he not stick to the plan and act unaffected from the Isaacs?

 

The blonde laughed back. “I remember.” 

 

They reveled in the silence for a while. Thomas almost believed he got away with that, but he was clearly wrong. 

 

“See?” She offered them a faint smile. _“You still care.”_

 

And, unfortunately, Thomas could not deny that statement. He still cared about him, he just was not capable of not doing it: he was aware he was not going to wake up one morning to not give a shit about Newt. He met him when he was a child and looked at him like he represented the sun himself, he shared parts of his soul with him – parts that were long gone now. 

 

“We aren’t gonna be friends anymore, Sonya.”

 

“ _Why?”_ But, surprisingly, that question was not asked by her; _Teresa_ was looking right at him, determination and curiosity lighting mischievously her eyes. And he prayed for a meteorite to fall on him in that precise moment or for the floor to split in a half and to suck him down or for Minho to pick up he needed his help, because that argument was going to evolve into a third degree, if Teresa was involved. 

 

Ironically, Thomas was saved by the source of all his current issues: _Newt._

 

It was just like in the movies, when the hottest girl of the school made an entrance along with her group of friends and everyone stopped doing what they were doing just to watch them, some in blind adoration others with squinting eyes laced with envy.   
  
And, just like everyone else, Thomas could not help but stared at Newt smirking amused at something Gally _\- Gally, of all people! -_ said, while walking side by side with his crick - of _dumbasses,_ if you asked Thomas - and smoking a cigarette.  
  
Once again, Thomas was hit by how much the boy had changed. He was under the judgmental scrutiny of a bunch of college's students, who were talking about him since day one, due to the curiosity the newbie had sparkled in each of them.  
  
The old Newt would have felt sick to even think about being right in the spotlight; the new Newt did not seem to care much about it, behaving seemingly effortlessly, carrying himself with a confidence the brunet still struggled to associate with the him.  
"He is smoking." Sonya stated and when Thomas turned towards her - more to force himself to not look at the blond anymore than for anything else -, he noticed her eyes were glassed, as if she kinda was in a haze.  
  
"And he seems to be friends with Gally and his minions." Minho added, sighting. "Maybe I'm starting to get why you don't want to be friends with him, Tommy-boy." Then he recoiled, remembering Sonya was still with them and Newt was her brother. "No offense, Sonya."  
  
The reason him and Newt could not be friends anymore was not exactly the one Minho was thinking about, but he was glad to be receiving some understanding, finally. It did not really matter he was not aware of the whole story behind. At least one of his best friends was on his side - while the other appeared to not be able to take her eyes off of the cocky blonde, like they were glued to him.  
  
But Sonya was practically unresponsive, the features of her face morphed into a worried grimace.  
  
"Yeah, well. You have to be a jerk too if you're hanging out with those jerks." Thomas gritted out under his breath, lead by the great amount of frustration Newt was bringing inside of him.  
  
Nevertheless, his comment did not go unnoticed. Sonya jerked on her feet, glancing down at the brunet with a wound expression. The movement was so sudden that not only Minho, but also Teresa noticed it.  
  
"I can't believe _you."_ She murmured to him and there was something so hurt in the tone of her voice, that Thomas clearly sensed a pang of guilt and regret right across the chest. "I get it, you don't want to talk to him. But at least have the decency to not shit on him!" And with that, she grabbed her backpack and ran after Newt, without giving him a second glance.  
  
Thomas was left dumbfounded and confused, not entirely getting what was that bothered her so much. Sure, maybe - definitely - the brunet overplayed his hand, but...were they _tears_ those in her eyes?  
  
"What the hell just happened?" Minho broke through the awkward silence between the three of them, voicing their thoughts.  
  
"I think Tom fucked-up." Teresa answered and her voice was soft, so probably he really appeared to have no idea what he did wrong, enough for her to pity him, at least.  
  
"I-" Thomas started and- _oh._  
  
_"He is smoking."_  
  
_Oh._  
  
_I'm such an asshole._  
  
"And I think he just figured it out." She continued, like she was doing a sort of play-by-play.  
__  
_"Fuck."_

 

♯♯♯

 

A week had passed since Newt had come back. A week in which Thomas _totally_ got used to see him with Sonya and Teresa, or worse of all, with Gally and his crick.  
  
_Well,_ that was what he was repeating into his head everyday, to get himself into thinking he could not care less about him.  
  
He was still worried about Teresa, though; he was well aware the girl was flirting with him, fascinated by the cloud of mystery the blond always brought with him, by his puzzling gaze that seemed to penetrate the true core of things and figure every single situation out, by the equally eerie smirk he wore on his thin lips.  
  
And Thomas could not blame her; after all, he was perfectly aware of the _ascending_ Newt had on people.  
  
So he tried to warn her, once; he told her to not get too attached, that things may not be like she thought they were. But she got defensive and demanded information that Thomas could not share with her, personal facts about the blond which were too complex and fucked up, stories Thomas had no strength to tell. Teresa assumed his best friend could not stand Newt anymore and was speaking about him that way because he did not want her to become involved with him. At the end, she changed her mind and affirmed Thomas was just jealous; that argument ended with an angry Teresa slamming his dorm room’s door with violence.  
  
He chose to never speak of Newt with her again.  
  
On the other hand, Sonya was avoiding him. Thomas did not try to talk to her, assuming she might be still angry - or, maybe, more disappointed - with him.  
  
Basically, that week had been a living hell for Thomas. He also had a lot of work and a test ahead of a subject he had fallen behind of. He was stressed and jittery and had trouble at sleeping at night, getting only a few miserable hours of sleep.  
  
Minho glanced worried at him from time to time when they decided to study together, mostly because Thomas felt like falling asleep on his books, consequently slumping on the paper surface.  
  
His best friend was aware he was not getting a good night of sleep for days now and that he was snapping at him more than necessary, upset even by meaningless jokes or actions; sometimes Thomas felt as if his self-control was slipping away.  
  
But Thomas could not help it, not really. When his life tend to become too much overwhelming, he got nervous and lhad difficulties to give some rest to his mind.  
  
So he stayed awake, his eyes finding imaginary pattern in the darkness of his room, Minho's soft snoring in the background offering him a little comfort.  
  
Thomas hated to make him worried like that, but also told himself it was inevitable; he would have done the same for him. They were like brothers and they could not stand seeing the other feel bad.  
  
There were times in which Thomas wondered if he should tell Minho about Newt, if that would lift the weight he brought on his heart _for ages._ There were times in which he was about to come clean and clear his head, only to reconsider it immediately after.  
  
Thomas accepted he was not ready to speak about the Brit, not with Minho, not with anyone else.  
  
As well as he was not ready to talk to Newt himself, not entirely sure of what to say to him or how to keep him from spilling things he would regret later.  
  
Thomas was not ready. He felt like the world was moving too fast around him.  
  
_Or, maybe, I'm the one who is too slow._

 

♯♯♯

 

_November 16, 2018 – 06:43 p.m._

_**From:** Tess_

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_Minho told me u dont want to come to the party 2nte. But u r._

 

Thomas looked at the text with blank eyes, words from his sociology book turning and swirling into his head, making of it a confused mess. 

 

_November 16, 2018 – 06:46 p.m._

_**From:** Thomas_

_**To:** Tess_

 

_I’ll think bout it :) r u coming?_

 

_November 16, 2018 – 06:47 p.m._

_**From:** Teresa _

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_U can bet ur beautiful ass ;)_

 

Thomas let out a full-on laugh reading that. A laugh that was immediately suffocated by the next text she send to him.

 

_November 16, 2018 – 06:47 p.m._

_**From:** Teresa_

_**To:** Thomas_

 

_I’m going with Newt._

 

And Thomas could sense the sudden seriousness behind those words, how much she dreaded his reaction; but he had promised to himself that he would no longer get involved in their relationship. So he was not going to say much about it.

 

_November 16, 2018 – 06:50 p.m._

_**From:** Thomas_

_**To:** Teresa_

 

_Gr8 xx_

 

Well..it wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?

 

♯♯♯

 

The party was at some frat house, that was already incredibly crowded when Minho and Thomas arrived.  
  
Loud electronic music was blasting from the stereos and people were dancing wildly, moving their bodies to the pressing rhythm of the song. Colorful lights traced and gave shape to the room, lighting the place and making it seem like a nightclub. Thomas would never understood how they could transform a simple living room into...that.  
  
Minho disappeared a few moments later and, before he could spend too much time thinking it through, he was sipping from his second red cup of beer, distractedly watching some guy playing to beer-pong.  
  
Brenda was not at the party; she was stuck with her family for the weekend - that same family that comprehended Gally now -, so she could not blow them off, even more so, Gally did not too.  
  
He thought about staying in his room and watch that new TV series that Netflix was promoting a lot, but Minho insisted: then, here he was.  
  
He probably should have gotten a few hours of sleep: he felt so tired and unmotivated that he was aware he needed them. But the river of his thoughts was interrupted by the sight of Teresa running away in front of him.  
  
He clasped her wrist with a swift move and when she turned around, he noticed she had her beautiful blue eyes full of tears. "Tess, what's wrong?"  
  
Teresa smiled but it was all _wrong,_ because she was sad and bitter. "Nothing. I'm fine." She assured him, before she freed of his grip and ran away from her best friend.  
  
Thomas could not believe what he just saw; Teresa was the strongest person he had ever met, she definitely did not break for nothing. 

 

_There must be a reason._  
  
And Thomas' heart clenched when he dropped his gaze in the direction she was coming from and found Newt, nodding to a guy who was talking to him. 

 

_Of fucking course._

 

A familiar anger took possess of his body; he finished his beer and marched to the guy, violent flames burning inside him.   
  
"What have you done to her?" Thomas began when he was within earshot, carefully spelling every single word.  
  
And here he was, _the little bastard,_ flirting with some random guy, while Teresa was crying over him. Thomas once again felt his heart sting and convinced himself it was _only_ because of Teresa. No other reasons.  
  
Newt stirred his lips in a fake smile, hiding annoyance behind it. "Thomas." he called him. "Do you mind?" He pointed with his head at the guy - a tall dark-haired boy he never had the misfortune to meet -, signaling he should leave him alone with the stranger.  
  
But Thomas was persistent. _"Yes."_  
  
Newt rolled his eyes and then sent an apologetic smile to the guy, who stepped back and got lost into the crowd.  
  
"You couldn't just wait, could you?!" The blond half-shouted at him, irked, with an upset expression on his face.  
  
"No." Thomas cut it short. "What have you done to Teresa?"  
  
The other scrunched his forehead. "What do you mean?"  
  
"She ran away. Crying. And she came here with you. So. What did you do?"  
  
However, Newt was looking at him with wide eyes, completely dumbfounded. "B-but she told she had to go to the toil-"  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Thomas cursed, sick and tired of the Brit that turned his life into a mess since he was back. "I'm so sick of your shit! She likes you."  
  
Newt connected all the dots in his head and then gave him a death stare. "And you could't break the news to her? I'm gay! She wasn't even supposed to hope about me and her getting together."  
  
"It was not my place to tell."  
  
The blond lowered his eyes and seemed sincerely displeased with the whole situation. "I thought she knew."  
  
And, of course, he just had to find a way to be innocent.  
  
"Listen." Thomas said, angrier than he was before. "I don't give _a shit_ about you. But I love her. So you're going to fix this. _Got it?"_  
  
When he walked away from him, he tried to get his mind off the hurt look into his eyes, as if Thomas had stabbed him right in the middle of his chest.  
  
And he decided that he would need a lot of alcohol to drawn the exact same pain he himself was feeling. 

 

♯♯♯

 

Thomas was drunk.  
  
He could point out how his mind felt as light as a feather and how his thoughts - usually so loud and annoying - seemed to have quieted down.  
  
He was getting through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, but the room was spinning, so he was more of trying to get past them, pretty unsuccessfully.  
  
Suddenly a girl he did not know accidentally pushed him, sending him flying on some guy who gritted a curse under his breath, before turning towards him. Thomas was still struggling at keeping the balance, when two strong hands gripped his waist and steadied him.  
  
He was not proud to admit how much it took for him to recognize that guy was Newt.  
  
His eyes were reflecting the colors of the stroboscopic lights, sparkling against the dark surrounding. It should have upset him how close they were and how his touch found the way on his body thanks to the muscle memory, he should have screamed at him to let him go and stepped away.  
  
But his body was reveling in the familiar touch, absorbing the soothing feeling it was providing after a week that felt anything but comfortable. And his mind was not in the right condition to disagree with his body, to incite the usual grit and to take the decision his sober-self would approve.  
  
"Hi." Thomas greeted him as if he was out of breath, smiling at him for the first time since he moved there.  
  
"You're drunk." Newt pinpointed, still holding him up.  
  
The brunet did not know why, but those words pronounced with his thick British accent sounded like the funniest joke he had ever heard. He laughed and laughed even more when the other raised his eyebrows, taken aback.  
  
_"Yoou..."_ He slurred, jabbing a finger into the middle of his chest. _"...talk funny."_  
  
He had the impression to have seen a smirk on his face, but he was not sure, because Newt covered his mouth with his hand for a second, only to put it again on Thomas' waist. "Let's get you some water, yeah?" He slid his hand in the brunet’s and he dragged him behind, turning back from time to time probably to make sure the boy was still alive.

 

In his drunken state, Thomas wondered how long it had been since they held hands the last time or just stayed so close to the other in general. 

 

_It’s been years. Then why does it feel so normal?_

 

When they both arrived at the bar counter, Newt let go of him and Thomas nearly tripped on his own feet, barely keeping a disappointed whimper for himself at the loss of touch. However the blond supported him with a hand on the small of his back, while he clung to the dark wood of the counter, stabilizing himself better than he could. He laughed and told him: “You’re a mess.”

  
After a few, Newt extended him a glass full of water – he did not notice when he asked for it to the bartender, but again, he did not believe he was capable of concentrating on anything in that moment - and he held back a scowl; he did not feel like drinking anymore, but he did not complain. Thomas stayed there, slumped over and slack-jawed, staring at the Brit’s long fingers picking up a completely different rhythm than that of the music blasting from the big speakers scattered here and there. Music that, despite being loud and making everything tremble, sounded miles away to Thomas, who felt like floating with Newt next to him. 

They did not dare to say a word for a long time, before Thomas decided to get upright with a swift move, which caused a wave of nausea to pervade him. He ignored it.

 

“I’mma tell you a secret.” 

 

“If you tell me, it won’t be a secret anymore.” Newt made fun of him, looking at him from above the cup he was bringing to his lips. 

 

The brunet concealed the fact with a clumsy hand gesture. “Don’t be boriiing!” He frowned, prolonging the ‘i’ letter of the world for no reason at all. 

 

The Brit put his hands up, showing he was surrendering. “Okay, okay. Tell me.” He chuckled. 

 

_I love when he smiles._

 

Thomas took two steps forward and rested a hand on Newt’s shoulder, then leaned over to talk in his ear, not troubling to lower his voice much.  _“I still care ‘bout ya.”_

 

And he did not delve on the fact that Newt’s breath hitched at hearing his confession. Neither on the fact he lightly rotated his head to catch a glimpse of his dark brown eyes and now their nose were grazing and their breaths mingling in one. 

 

“It’s not what sober Thomas would say.” The blond murmured and Thomas had the impression he lowered his gaze to his lips which were slightly parted; he did not delve on that too. Nor on his hands that had found their place on his waist once again.

 

“I’m gonna tell ya another secret.” And now he was whispering too, afraid to shatter the moment like it was made of crystal. “Sober Thomas is a _liar.”_

 

Thomas closed his eyes. He did know why. Or maybe he did. 

 

_Kiss me._

 

_C’mon. Kiss me._

 

Newt took a long step back and cleared his throat, looking away from him. “I’m going to take you back to your dorm.”

 

_He can’t be serious._

 

“You can’t be serious.”

 

“I’m bloody serious, Thomas. C’mon.” He clapped his hands and got his jacket from the stool – when did he even take it off?

“But…!” He whined like a child. “I love this song!” But honestly he had no idea of what song was on. “We should dance. Get this party started!” He continued, grasping the blond’s arm and shaking it excitedly. 

 

“Sure. Let’s get some fresh air first, what d’ya think?” But before Thomas could have the possibility to retort, Newt’s hands gripped at his shoulders and guided him towards the exit. 

 

So Thomas got back at him, or – in other words – did something really stupid that simply knew would piss the Brit off. He grabbed a shot glass from the counter, filled with God-knows-what and gulped its content at once. 

 

He could swear his bulbs almost came out of their sockets. “What the bloody hell did you do?!” The blond shouted and checked the glass, only to find it empty. “You swallowed it all?!”

 

Thomas smirked. “I always swallow it all.” 

 

Newt gaped at the innuendo, then slammed a hand on his face, before resuming their walk towards the exit of the frat house. “Oh my God.”

 

He assumed that last drink was the cherry on top, because he could not quite grasp what was going on around him anymore. He did not register Newt picking up his jacket; he just felt him resting it on his shoulders right in the moment the chilly air of the night clashed against the skin left uncovered by the t-shirt he was wearing.

 

“It’s not even cold out here.” He complained. 

 

The blond rolled his eyes and forced his arms into the sleeves of the garment, getting him to move. 

 

Their walk to the brunet’s dorm passed in a blur; he was aware of the words tumbling from his mouth, at times in a rush of confused syllables. Newt either went along with it or brushed it off when it tended to become too personal. Before he could make his brain work properly, there was a light touch on his butt. 

 

“I’ve to admit...this was pretty straightforward.” Thomas joked around, leaning on the wall next to the door of – of what? His room?

 

But Newt waved a set of keys in front of his eyes, specifically _his_ set of keys. And- _oh._ He had only taken them from the back pocket of his jeans. 

 

He hauled him into his own room and shut the door behind him and suddenly Thomas was painfully aware of the quietness of the place. Nevertheless, he had not enough time to overthink it, because Newt maneuvered him on the bed and took off his shoes. 

 

The brunet felt cold fingers brush against the naked skin of his stomach, where his t-shirt had ridden up. He closed his eyes, while a warm feeling flooded his body: he felt like he was burning, everything was so...intimate. His jeans were unbuttoned and a zip was pulled down. 

 

“Lift your hips.” Newt commanded and Thomas obeyed, allowing him to take off the rough garment. Then he was steered into a sitting position and his jacket was shrugged off his shoulders, landing on the bed with a dull thud. 

 

He observed the blond’s thin lips moving over forming some words that Thomas was not able to grasp. He shook his head violently to wake up a little, but that only contributed to make him sick. “Sorry?”

 

Newt just smiled. “Do you want to take off your shirt too?”

 

The brunet nodded and raised his arms, getting a full-on laugh out of him. Skin on skin again, but this time Thomas noticed the Brit was staring at his chest, his shirt balled in his hands. And because he did not have the power to keep his mouth shut, Thomas decided to speak. 

 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, y’ know.”

 

_Or touched._

 

_Or kissed._

 

Newt seemed to awaken from his daze. “I know.”

 

Then the world resumed on confusing him. He drank another glass of water and was now under his blanket, his head comfortably resting on his pillow. He listened to Newt moving around in his room, finding comfort and familiarity in it, relaxing at the faint sounds he was making while doing Thomas did not know what.

 

He must have dozen off at a certain point; he was still half awake when he sensed the mattress sank down under a newly-added weight and a feather-like touch on his face, pushing his fringe out of his forehead. 

 

“Tommy.” 

 

“I love how you call me Tommy.” Thomas muttered in a voice thick with sleep. 

 

“ _Tommy.”_ Newt repeated and traced the profile of his nose with his fingertips, both his tone and his touch tender, as if he was a fragile treasure that needed to be protected, to be taken care of. 

 

“Mmh-mh...” The brunet mumbled, finally at loss of words; he just wanted to enjoy the soothing feeling of being in that flawless slumber. 

 

“I have to go.” 

 

_I know._

 

_You always do._

 

The door closed behind Newt’s lithe figure. 

 

♯♯♯

 

 _2005_  
  
_Thomas offered a tissue to the sobbing blond. He lifted his big eyes up on the brunet's face and grabbed the tissue with a grateful smile. He was still sobbing, but he did not went on full-on sobs; they were actually repressed, as if he was trying to appear tougher than he was._  
  
_The blond kid - he was so skinny and seemed very little, so Thomas assumed he must have been on first or second year - got closer to the sink and washed his face. He then dried the skin and blew his nose._  
  
_Thomas watched him in fascination when he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, getting his sniffing under control. It was quite a sight._  
  
_"Why were you crying?" The brunet asked, having enough of holding off his demanding curiosity._  
  
_Again, those dark brown eyes were on him, scrutinizing. "They were makin' fun of me because I have a bloody accent."_  
  
_Thomas tilted his head to the side. "Where are you from?"_  
  
_The kid rolled his eyes and folded his arms on his chest. It was crazy as such a small person could look so intimidating._  
  
_"China." He stated, serious. "What d'ya bloody think?"_  
  
_The brunet understood he was being sarcastic; he may be a just a seven-year-old boy, but he noticed when he was being played at. His mom always praised him for how good he was at comprehending people._  
  
_"I don't know?" He retorted, but it came out as more of a question. "That's why I'm asking."_  
  
_Mrs. Russell was going to give him an earful when he would return to class._  
  
_The snarky blond rolled his eyes again. "Britain."_  
  
_"Oh." simply came out of his mouth and he had the impression the kid was disappointed by the lack of heat behind it. "Well, you talk funny."_  
  
_And now he was sad, his eyes watered again on instant and Thomas felt so guilty, because that was not what he meant. "Yeah?"_  
  
_He had to make things right, because he did not know why but he never wanted to see the blond cry again. It made him sad too._  
  
_"Yes." Thomas confirmed. "But I like it." Then he held out his hand to him. "I'm Thomas."_  
  
_The blond had a smirk that practically screamed 'mischief' on his face when he shook his hand. "Name's Newt."_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for reading this.  
> Let me know what you think in the comments, if you'd like, or if you think I should correct something in the text. I apologize in advance; my first language is not English, but I'll do my best.  
> If you want to ask me something or just say 'hi', this is my blog on Tumblr (https://edithedisons.tumblr.com).  
> Have a good day!


End file.
